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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823938">Holiday Distraction</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts'>merrythoughts</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyMissCoffee/pseuds/ReallyMissCoffee'>ReallyMissCoffee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Cute, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, Undisclosed Trauma, distraction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:34:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823938</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyMissCoffee/pseuds/ReallyMissCoffee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dude. Where are your decorations?" Stiles demands, looking around at the familiar artsy-fartsy decor that has nothing to do with Christmas. "Where's your tree?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>221</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Holiday Distraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/gifts">merrythoughts</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was totally a Christmas gift for my platonic wife, Merry, who helped me fix up the ending because my fic-writing endurance is low. She's currently visiting me and reminded me that I had forgotten to post this despite three reminders. SO! Without further ado, the Christmas Steter thing that no one ever asked for!</p><p>Ilu bb &lt;3 So happy you came to visit me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Okay so life in Beacon Hills hadn't exactly turned out how Stiles had expected when he'd been fifteen. Back then, his only real goals had been to make the lacrosse team, date Lydia Martin, and graduate. </p><p>Two out of three isn't that bad, even if he's not really playing lacrosse anymore. Lydia not choosing him hadn't really been a surprise, but her choosing a very sheepish, uncomfortable-looking Parrish had been. It had been weird for a week, and then Stiles had reluctantly decided that at least he hadn't lost out to <em>Jackson</em>. Small miracles.</p><p>Besides, Stiles' life has taken a few really weird turns, and he's not talking about the nogitsune, dread doctor, wild hunt type weird. He's talking the kind of weird that he'd denied for months, and then for another few months after he'd realized it was getting serious. </p><p>He's talking about the Peter Hale kind of weird. The kind of weird that has him sitting next to Peter on the sofa in Derek's loft voluntarily, not because he'd been relegated to the shame-corner. The kind of weird that makes him think about things like how comfortable Peter's shoulder is when they're lounging in Peter's bed some nights, or how it's hilarious to poke fun at Peter being anal-retentive about domestic things, like cooking and laundry.</p><p>The kind of weird that means he's kinda-sorta dating Peter Hale. </p><p>Yeah. That kind. </p><p>Maybe the weirdest thing is that it's not actually that weird anymore. Scott had been horrified at first, and Derek had almost eviscerated Peter against the loft's wall when it had first accidentally-on-purpose come to light. Stiles' <em>dad</em> had been the worst, by far, but despite long months of very tense conversations, bribing, schmoozing, and begging, his dad had come around. Peter had actually helped with that. </p><p>Yeah, turns out the guy can lay on the charming bullshit at the drop of a hat. It's a skill that Stiles wishes he had, but whatever. His boyfriend-partner-wolf-thing can do it for him. He still benefits.</p><p>So, yeah, life in Beacon Hills isn't really what Stiles had thought it would be, but that's kind of okay. He's on Christmas break from college, the weather is nice, everyone's home for Christmas, and things are just… good.</p><p>A few weeks from Christmas, Stiles bullies Derek into letting him spruce up the loft for the holidays. Derek scowls the scowl he always does and he makes the appropriate disgruntled noises, but when Scott <em>and</em> Isaac join forces and push him, he's helpless to resist. A victory's a victory, even if recruited help.</p><p>They spend the afternoon decorating, and Stiles snickers more than once, because Derek spends most of the time standing in the middle of his loft, looking like he's slowly being pushed towards the edge of a tall building. Stiles takes special delight in stringing popcorn up, because Derek flinches whenever he steals a few samples and smacks his lips. So sue him. It's basically tradition by now to just bother Derek around this time of year.</p><p>Given the fact that Derek doesn't chase them out, he seems to agree. </p><p>Stiles is flying high on his victory, and when he leaves Derek's decked-out loft to stop by Peter's place that evening, Stiles doesn't think anything of it.</p><p>That is… he doesn't think anything of it until he walks into Peter's apartment, takes one look around, and then frowns.</p><p>"Dude. Where are <em>your </em>decorations?" Stiles demands, looking around at the familiar artsy-fartsy decor that has nothing to do with Christmas. "Where's your <em>tree?</em>"</p><p>Peter looks up from the kitchen table. Stiles thinks he's working on something adult-y, like taxes, but he pushes them aside when Stiles strides over.</p><p>"There are plenty of trees in the forest. There's no need to get another one."</p><p>"Yeah, but… how are you going to <em>decorate</em> it if it's all the way out there? I'm not helping you throw baubles on trees when it's cold out."</p><p>Peter gives Stiles a small, placating, almost indulgent smile. It's actually a little insulting, but whatever. Stiles is used to that sort of thing.</p><p>"Someone's feeling festive. You smell like Derek. Just came from bothering him?"</p><p>"I prefer 'forced socialization'," Stiles says. "It's good for him. Dude looked like we were hanging him the whole time."</p><p>"'We'? Scott, I assume?"</p><p>"And Isaac."</p><p>"Ah. And you <em>wonder</em> why he looked like you were marching him to the gallows?"</p><p>Stiles narrows his eyes. "I'm sensing a little sarcasm here."</p><p>"Couldn't imagine why." There's a smirk playing at Peter's lips. One of those small smirks that makes Stiles want to kick him as much as kiss him.</p><p>"All right Mr. Smarty Pants. You still didn't answer my question. Where's your tree?"</p><p>"Mm." </p><p>Peter stands, setting a pen down on top of the kitchen table. He stretches in a way that looks way too attractive, and Stiles suspects he's doing it on purpose. Which is a concept that is only reinforced when Peter steps in closer to Stiles, reaches out, slides a hand behind his neck, and pulls him in closer.</p><p>When Peter kisses him, it's slow. Stiles makes a small sound, because Peter still hadn't answered his question. The kiss is sensual and deep, Peter's tongue doing wicked things to Stiles' senses. He resists as long as it takes for Peter to bite and suck at his lower lip the way that Peter <em>knows</em> he likes, and then Stiles suddenly doesn't care anymore. He's kissing back, tree and decorations forgotten as he loops his arms around Peter's neck.</p><p>Stiles is pretty sure that his lips are red when Peter finally lets him break the kiss. Stiles is flushed, breathing hard, and Peter's hands - once on his hips - have slid down to cup his ass. Which, <em>okay</em>, yeah, Stiles is so on board with sudden sexiness. </p><p>"If you're not planning on following through, here, I am going to be <em>very</em> disappointed in you," Stiles breathes. "Like <em>dad</em> levels of disappointed. Like I'm-going-to-cut-off-your-college-fund kind of disappointed."</p><p>"My. We can't have <em>that</em>, now can we?" Peter drawls back. </p><p>Stiles is halfway through figuring out a response when suddenly Peter's hands are gripping. Stiles makes a small sound and then he's got his legs wound around Peter's waist as Peter lifts him up. Hot lips find the <em>spot</em> just under his ear, and Stiles makes a small, dazed sound, his fingers winding into Peter's hair.</p><p>"Okay, okay, you've proven you're still a hot badass," Stiles says, gasping softly as Peter adds teeth into the mix. His jeans are feeling tight already. "Take me upstairs. I spent all afternoon annoying your nephew. I deserve a bed."</p><p>"I suppose I can cater to that." Peter draws back to offer Stiles a lazy smirk, and then he pulls Stiles in closer. </p><p>Peter does take him upstairs, and Stiles gives up halfway through trying to get out of his clothes, because his fingers seem clumsy in comparison. He considers requesting a shower, but that urge dies the second that Peter pins him to the bed, strips off his t-shirt, and bites at his neck. Stiles hears Peter breathe him in, and suddenly it's not nearly as important. He clutches Peter's shoulders, pulls him closer, and arches into him. </p><p>Peter strips him down, and Stiles half-heartedly considers pulling at Peter's clothing, but considering how fixated Peter seems on marking his neck up to hell and back, Stiles isn't as concerned. He holds on for the ride, and as Peter moves down, biting and kissing small marks over Stiles' clavicle and torso, Stiles gives up. It feels really fucking good, and anything that involves Peter's mouth near his dick is immediately not something that Stiles wants to risk.</p><p>Except Peter doesn't <em>go</em> for his dick. Before Stiles can protest, Peter has him flipped, his face pressed against the pillow. Stiles makes a sound, muffled and unimpressed, and he pulls back, ready to ream Peter out. Except Peter kind of beats him to it. Literally.</p><p>"Oh <em>fucking</em> yes," Stiles hisses, his back arching as Peter spreads his cheeks and licks him open. </p><p>Peter's good at this, is the thing. Stiles has <em>so many</em> jokes he's never said, because he's sure there's something about dogs and asses that he could use as never-ending fodder here, but every time he thinks about possible jokes, it's when Peter's eating him out like a champ. Stiles' breath hitches, his hands balling into fists as Peter pulls out all the stops that he knows that Stiles loves. He teases when Stiles wants more, and when Stiles begins to get jittery with the pleasure of it, he eases off until Stiles is begging for him to pick it back up again.</p><p>Peter takes him apart. </p><p>Before Peter, Stiles hadn't even known what that <em>meant</em>, but he gets it now. Peter unwinds all the tension in his body, focuses all of Stiles' attention down in on his asshole and Peter's tongue. He feels strung out and wired, and it's almost embarrassing that the second Peter actually touches his dick, Stiles feels his whole body jerk. He comes in one stroke, shouting half-into his pillow as his back arches. </p><p>He trembles, falling apart, and Peter doesn't let him go even when instinct tells Stiles to pull away. Peter just winds his arms around Stiles' thighs and yanks him back with a growl, and <em>fuck</em> if that isn't the hottest thing that Stiles has ever experienced.</p><p>Stiles rides it out with intensity, not even wanting to know what sounds he's got to be making by this point. His mind feels foggy with pleasure, and when the last few drops of come are squeezed from him, and Peter's attention is beginning to be too sensitive, Stiles weakly reaches back to tap Peter's head. Peter draws back and Stiles slumps forward, breathing raggedly. He doesn't need to look back to see how <em>smug</em> Peter's gotta look now. </p><p>"That's a good look for you," Peter says smoothly, and Stiles flips him off with a low groan. </p><p>He winds up sucking Peter off in return, because despite Peter's protests that 'seeing him wrecked and ruined is good enough' (and seriously, who says that kind of shit?) Stiles is adamant. He's a damn good boyfriend, okay? He's not about to let Peter get away with rocking his whole damn world and give nothing back. Nope, no way.</p><p>Besides, even though Stiles isn't sure he's ready to admit it, he really likes sucking Peter's cock. He likes the ache to his jaw, likes the way that Peter's pupils blow wide when he talks after, when his voice is all scratchy and raw. He especially likes the way that Peter kisses him filthy afterwards, as though chasing his own taste. </p><p>It's no different this time. After, when Peter is shivering and petting his fingers through Stiles' hair, Stiles feels like a fucking king.</p><p>Peter drags him into the shower and Stiles feels boneless and happy, his eyes half-lidded with contentment as Peter drags a loofah over his skin. Stiles doesn't even make fun of him for having a <em>loofah</em> in his bathroom, because when it scratches over his nipples and he starts getting a little hard from the attention, Peter takes matters into his <em>own</em> hands.</p><p>Peter winds up carrying him to bed. Stiles, feeling pleasantly happy and a little stupid, damns the consequences and shuffles closer. Cuddling with Peter is always a bit of a risk. Some times he welcomes it with open arms, and some times Stiles can find himself on the floor. Granted <em>that</em> time he'd been teasing Peter mercilessly and, well, he'd kind of deserved it.</p><p>Stiles doesn't get pushed away this time, though. Peter winds an arm around him and Stiles closes his eyes with a low, contented groan. He stretches out on Peter's luxurious sheets and smiles when he feels the rumble of Peter's chuckle against his cheek.</p><p>"<em>Someone's</em> enjoying himself," Peter comments smoothly.</p><p>"Shh," Stiles says, and grins a little wider. "I'm gettin' my cuddle on. I'm like a tiger. Never interrupt a tiger while he's feeding. You're feeding me with cuddles."</p><p>Given the expression on Peter's face, he's not actually that fond of Stiles' phrasing, but whatever. Stiles feels good and lazy and pleased. Peter is warm and despite Peter's judgment, when he begins to stroke Stiles' hair, it's clear that he's settling into the cuddling just fine.</p><p>Stiles doesn't exactly <em>mean</em> to fall asleep, but when he wakes up a few hours later to Peter breathing rhythmically beside him, his eyes closed, Stiles smiles sleepily and gives in. He doesn't always spend the night, but he's definitely down to do it tonight.</p><p>***</p><p>It's only a few days later that Stiles realizes that Peter hadn't actually <em>answered</em> his question about the decoration. He only notices because he stops by Peter's place to pick up a few cards that Derek had asked him to grab. The moment that Stiles steps into Peter's apartment, he's once again caught by the lack of Christmas spirit. </p><p>Stiles looks around, bemused, and when Peter shows up with the box of cards in hand, Stiles sets his hands on his hips.</p><p>"Seriously, are you <em>ever </em>going to decorate the place? I can totally help you. I helped Derek after all."</p><p>Peter glances around mutely and rolls his eyes. He walks over and presses the box against Stiles' chest, forcing Stiles to grab at it before it falls onto the floor.</p><p>"I'd rather not have Scott in my home."</p><p>"I said <em>I'd</em> help you," Stiles protests. "Not Scott. I know how you feel about him."</p><p>Stiles' tone is lower, warning, because they have had many, <em>many </em>long talks about Peter's feelings toward Scott. Many <em>loud</em> talks had followed. It's something that Stiles is still working on. </p><p>"Anyway," Stiles goes on, "we could totally go and grab a tree before the day's over. They're probably on cheap if we go outside of town."</p><p>Peter hums dismissively and offers Stiles an absent smile as he turns away. Stiles stares after him, brow furrowed, but before he can say anything, Peter glances back at him.</p><p>"Did Derek need pens? I wouldn't put it past him to forget something."</p><p>"Wha--? Oh. Uh." Stiles glances down at the box of cards. "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe it's better to be safe."</p><p>"Mm. Yes, I'd say so," Peter drawls easily, and waves Stiles after him.</p><p>As it turns out, the pens are in Peter's bedroom. Stiles fully intends to get them and get back to Derek, but before he can even pick them up, Peter has him against the wall. Strong hands pin his to the wall, and the box of cards falls, but it lands helpfully upright. Stiles is indignant up until the moment that Peter kisses him, hot and hungry and distracting.</p><p>He's on board at once, making small, enthusiastic sounds as Peter does <em>sinful</em> things to his throat. </p><p>It's hot, and it's heavy, and Stiles <em>absolutely</em> loses track of time. It isn't until he's sprawled out on Peter's bed, completely naked, his ass feeling uncomfortably slick with lube and aching pleasantly that he realizes he'd told Derek he'd be <em>right back</em>. </p><p>Stiles sits upright, eyes wide, and winces, because… right. He's a little tender, and there are <em>definitely</em> some things that Derek is going to smell when Stiles makes it back there. He flushes.</p><p>"Uh. Any chance you wanna join me in the shower before I head back? Derek's going to be wondering what happened to me."</p><p>"Oh, he'll know," Peter - unhelpfully - chimes. "He'll be able to smell me all over you. He's thick, but he's not <em>that</em> thick."</p><p>Stiles sends Peter a mutinous look and hops off the bed. "If you don't come with me, I'm gonna drip your spunk all over the floor and you'll need to clean it up. Yeah, that's right," he adds, at Peter's indignant look, "so you'd better come and get clean with me. C'mon, I can't get my cuddle on, so this is the closest thing I've got."</p><p>"I suppose there's some sense in that," Peter allows, sighing to himself as he stands up. He looks a little unsteady too, but he dutifully leads the way into the bathroom and Stiles follows after him.</p><p>When he shows up an hour later, Derek - as Stiles had predicted - is not amused. </p><p>***</p><p>Stiles isn't proud to admit that it takes him a full week to realize what Peter is doing. He heads over on Wednesday and mutters about Peter's lack of festive spirit, and before he leaves, he has Peter's lips around his cock, practically sucking his brains out. When Stiles visits on Friday to force Peter to watch Netflix like a real human being, he wonders out loud that since Peter can cook really well, whether he'd be able to make Christmas cookies for the pack. Within an hour, Peter has him bent over the counter, fucking into him hard and slow, just the way Stiles likes it.</p><p>It happens again on Sunday, and again on Monday, and it's honestly <em>Scott</em> that really gets him to figure it out, because Stiles might might be smart as fuck, but he can be a little dick-blind sometimes.</p><p>"Dude," Scott says, his nose wrinkling on Wednesday afternoon as they sit together on Stiles' bed, playing on his XBox. "Not that I don't get it, but like… what's with, um… y'know. All that?"</p><p>Stiles, who is focusing on how Halo is <em>so</em> not fair when your best friend has super wolfy powers and reflexes, doesn't quite catch on. He glances at Scott, half-distracted. "All what?"</p><p>"You smell."</p><p>Stiles puts his controller down and turns to send Scott an affronted look. </p><p>"I <em>what?</em> I showered like an hour ago!"</p><p>"I know!" Scott grimaces. "It's not that. It's… you know. Dude, don't make me say it." </p><p>Stiles stares at him uncomprehendingly and Scott shifts uncomfortably in his seat. </p><p>"You smell like, uh. You smell like Peter. You've been smelling like Peter a <em>lot</em> the past few days. I'm not judging!" Scott hastens to add. "You know I'm cool with it. But like… that doesn't mean I wanna smell it <em>all </em>the time."</p><p>And Stiles suddenly gets it. Or at least he gets part of it. Because, okay, it's not like he and Peter have ever been celibate or anything, but the amount of sex they've had this past week <em>has</em> been excessive. Stiles is pretty sure his dick is developing a Pavlovian response to Peter's apartment at this rate. He <em>has</em> been dicked way more often than usual. </p><p>As all things in Stiles' life have dictated, it takes him very little time to connect the dots. With Scott sitting beside him, Stiles gapes in dawning understanding.</p><p>"Shit," he says, and Scott nods morosely.</p><p>"It's been <em>awful</em>," he commiserates, and Stiles is just understanding enough to not shove Scott off the bed.</p><p>***</p><p>The evening lights are flickering to life on the street corners when Stiles makes his way up to Peter's place later that night. He's got a theory to test this time, and it doesn't take more than ten minutes for him to get right to it.</p><p>Stiles makes a passing comment about Peter getting some fairy lights or something, and before he knows it, Peter has him pressed up against the wall, mouthing at his neck. Stiles' body flushes with arousal, but when Peter reaches for his wrists to pin them in place, Stiles suddenly jerks. He reaches up and pushes, and Peter - just shocked enough at Stiles' audacity - lets himself be shoved back.</p><p>They stand like that for a moment, Stiles wide-eyed and breathing hard, and Peter looking warily confused and a little like he's trying to decide whether or not he should be angry. Stiles swallows.</p><p>"Why don't you want to talk about the Christmas decorations?" He demands.</p><p>Peter's expression shutters just enough to look blithely polite. "Stiles, <em>what</em> are you talking about?"</p><p>"No, don't even. Don't think I haven't noticed."</p><p>"You're going to have to explain."</p><p>"Oh my god," Stiles hisses, and gestures between the two of them. "You're doing it on purpose; you <em>know</em> you are! Every time I mention Christmas decorations, you go all sexual on me. Do you, like…" Stiles' expression does something complicated. "Do you have a Christmas kink?"</p><p>It does the trick. Peter's expression twists into something quickly before it settles on incredulous, but Stiles knows what he'd seen. He'd seen that flicker of anger, and <em>anger</em> means there's something to be angry <em>about</em>. </p><p>"Stiles, you're being ridiculous," Peter dismisses, waving a hand irritably. "I don't have a Christmas kink. Whatever this is, you're looking <em>far</em> too deeply into it."</p><p>"No, I'm not, and you know it." Stiles scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. "Every time I come over here and say something about Christmas, you get all… well. Horny. No, don't look at me like that, you <em>totally</em> do. What I can't decide is if it's because you're really rarin' to go, or because you're trying to distract <em>me</em>. Which, okay, I'm making that super easy, I'll admit. No shame in that; you're hot."</p><p>"How magnanimous of you," Peter drawls.</p><p>"Okay, so it's that one. You only get all bitchy when I'm right."</p><p>"No, I get all <em>bitchy</em> when you're being ridiculous."</p><p>Stiles makes a small, exasperated gesture in Peter's direction. "You are like the most frustrating person ever."</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>Stiles crosses the distance between them and jabs a finger against Peter's chest. "Okay, look buddy. I might not be all super-power-rawr-wolf like you and Scott, but I <em>can</em> call in a favor or two and like… ask Derek to come over. You can tell him that I'm being ridiculous and if you pass built-in lie-detector test, I'll leave you alone."</p><p>For a moment, Peter stands there, looking unimpressed. Stiles looks up, meeting his eyes, and they stare at one another, Stiles insistent and Peter bored. </p><p>It goes on for way too long, in Stiles' opinion. But when he sighs, draws back, and grabs his phone with a quick mutter of, "<em>fine</em>, we'll do this the hard way," Peter suddenly reaches over and snatches his phone out of his hand.</p><p>Stiles makes a small sound of outrage and jumps for it, but Peter tosses it back on the couch, irritation rolling off of him in waves.</p><p>"<em>Why</em>," Peter says slowly, "are you pushing this?"</p><p>"I don't know. <em>Why</em> won't you decorate?"</p><p>"This is ridiculous."</p><p>"Is not," Stiles insists, frowning. "<em>Something</em> is up, okay? I know that. Just… you know. Talk to me or whatever."</p><p>"How comforting."</p><p>"<em>Ugh</em>, why do you have to be such a <em>dick?</em>" Stiles mutters, because Peter is seriously impossible most days here but this is serious and Stiles is trying and it's really frustrating to him when Peter can't at least give him an inch (and he's not talking about Peter's dick because getting dick inches inside him has never been a problem). </p><p>"Comes naturally," is Peter's go to dick-ish response. "No point in fighting against one's instincts."</p><p>"Look, I'm pretty good at letting you keep your secrets and galavant around like you have no heart, but a man's gotta put his foot down sometime." </p><p>Is this one of those times? Stiles thinks so. Peter looks unimpressed, his mouth opening to probably give some jerk-like reply but Stiles beats him to it. "You tell me and I'll drop it."</p><p>"And if I don't?"</p><p>"I won't spend the holidays with you," Stiles shoots back. Considering how often Stiles ends up hanging out with Peter, this is a decent threat.</p><p>Peter's lips thin as he considers his options and Stiles gives him a look before offering out his hand. After a moment, Peter takes it and Stiles leads them to the living room where they sit down on Peter's overly comfortable couch.</p><p>"Christmas reminds me of things I'd rather not reminisce upon," Peter says lightly.</p><p>It doesn't take Stiles long to figure it out then, but he doesn't shift closer to Peter or baby him. Peter would lose it if he did. Their thighs are touching and the warmth there feels grounding to him (and Stiles bets that it's the same for Peter). It's enough for now.</p><p>"Your family," Stiles supplies. The Hale fire… Then Peter going berserk and killing Laura. The stilted relationship between Derek and him now. Stiles bets that Christmas used to be a big deal before all of that. </p><p>They don't have the types of talks - talks about their past, or about painful things in general, but they <em>could…</em></p><p>Peter's jaw clenches, but when he speaks, his tone is airy, unaffected. It's bullshit. "That's correct, Stiles."</p><p>"Hate to break it to you, I applied for the position and I'm - <em>graciously </em>- only going to request your presence on Christmas, but next year? Next year <em>we're </em>going all out."</p><p>There's a moment - halfway through Stiles' offer - where he feels Peter stiffen beside him. Stiles doesn't risk more than a glance, but it's enough to see something quick and shocked flicker behind Peter's eyes. </p><p>Just like that, it's like Peter's bravado cracks. All it takes is that little implication - that Peter <em>has</em> family - and the stubborn set to Peter's expression eases. He looks down at Stiles, a small frown on his lips. Stiles looks up at Peter, nerves buzzing in his chest, and for a second, he isn't sure whether he's said the right thing.</p><p>Then Peter relaxes, something warmer settling in his eyes. Stiles feels Peter's hold tighten around him, subtle but firm. </p><p>"I suppose I could be persuaded," he says, and Stiles grins up at him. It's a start.</p><p> </p>
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